At first I saw them in the bright morning light
A milestone on their shoulders
A horse at their side, a horse they came over
From the land of constant fight

At the corner they were waiting
For a winner of their size
Nut the managers were taking over
The profession of disguise

And they went into a rainbow
And they lived there for many years
Till one day they tried to go
But burning was their gear

Are you waiting for the take off?
Are you waiting for the show?
No winner will be coming
You really should know

Neo Nazi doom advisers sticking in the mud
While Hindustanian horses refuse a haircut
Windswept children running wild on the land
Lonely tele typers ticking in Tschaikowsky's tent

Pig pink colored ministers are ready to drop
They cut down all the flowers on the way to the top
While frogmen encircle the Zig Zag Cinema
And salvation's sisters enter the Turkish Opera

Pudding face publicity promoters call
For a sign on the invisible wall
While prophets drive past on compressed air
And caravans of cameras do not care

The boomerang battery bands man on his sphinx like bike
Is mostly from Saturday to Sunday on strike
While formulas go to pieces close at the ground
On their way down the hill all the years' round

Later I saw them in a rusty limousine
A guitar on their shoulder
To leave the golden mean
Where the cleric is a clown and the colors are clean

At the corner they were waiting
For a splendid slot machine
Which could change wine into water
And reality into a dream